Anger Cage
by creekblues
Summary: Anger found a way into his heart the moment he was born, forceful and never fleeting. It grew, to pain and anguish at the sight of his future. Refusing to watch it unfold, he sets out to shift a state of a pre-determined path. Or, in other words, Mandark goes on a high school shooting spree. R&R


**A/N: I'll make this short. If you like this chapter and you want to read more, please review and let me know what you think. Good or bad are always accepted. Critiques will help a lot. Thanks.**  
><strong>Disclaimer: All characters in this fanfic belong to Cartoon Network. Title is taken from "Anger Cage" by Course of Nature. Deeply recommended as you read this fic.<br>**

* * *

><p>"You sound exhausted. Do you sleep at all anymore?"<p>

Mandark twisted playfully at the phone cable, back arched against his bedroom wall. "No," he draws out wistfully. "Not really." He looked around the room at the decadent display of Nine Inch Nails posters and pentagrams. Not at all unusual décor for a seventeen year old boy. Right?

Seemingly, he was the devil's child. Or at least that was what the town's local priest screamed at him the minute the Monarch of Darkness took stride into holy barriers. Maybe it was the satanic cross he donned around his neck, or the strong stench of Marlboro cigarettes. He was quite sure it was the latter.

What he lacked in graciousness and purity he made up for in bitterness and rage. All he knew is, was that Windbear and Oceanbird's attempts at finding religion diminished due to the abomination that was their son. Oh, if only he could forewarn them just how bad things were truly going to get.

"Want to come over and study?" Anyone that didn't know Dexter would have pulled their hair out trying to decipher words buried underneath a harsh, thick accent. Even to Mandark it had been like learning a second language in the beginning. His refined intelligence gave him such capability to pick it up fast enough, of course, but still sometimes managed to make quite a struggle over the phone.

"Sure," the raven hair teen grinned, eyes glowering at the mirror across from him in hopes it would shatter in his name.

He trudged down the street, pausing to stomp through puddles and admiring the bleak, darkening sky. His favorite kind of atmosphere, while depressing for anyone else, did him good. While listening to the thundering sounds of his own footsteps he grew empowered, having traded signature oxfords he wore often in his childhood for hard and heavy combat boots. Mandark barely began to rap at the door before it swung open, revealing a terribly anxious looking redhead. "Uh, sorry," the shorter boy muttered. "Did I scare you?"

His expression went to ease, as if it had never faltered. "Of course not," he bitterly retorts, smirking slightly. The raven hair teen's gaze barely met Dexter's as he said this, staring above him and into the depths of his house. Moving away swiftly behind the younger boy his trench coat followed suit, having grown out of his cape and opted for something more mature and efficient. Besides, he looked more menacing. _Evil._

"What took you so long?" Dexter exclaims out of the blue, overwhelmed by thick silence. "You only live down the street." He pulled awkwardly at the hem of his gloves, standing straight in front of the older boy, although he could not say that this did much. While the redhead had hit a very good growth spurt, Mandark hit a better one. Six feet six. Unknowingly to Dexter and Deedee, his height and clothing choices, as well as angry and cold demeanor, made the raven haired teen out to be quite scary to others. If you asked him why all this was he might not answer, and then he might say it was because of his future. Mandark wished to stray afar from what was meant to be. Not that this meant he stopped his rivalry with Dexter, because that will not end until he says so. But not yet. However, if he's going to grow up ugly and lazy and alone and hated, eventually overthrown by a stupid poindexter, he'll sure have better luck keeping up a sense of dignity by striking a bullet though his brain.

This is exactly what the endgame entails.

He's going to take himself down a different path against all odds, he'll be fucking certain. The future he saw as a child is not what he wants. Mandark saw more than a scarce glimpse, and his stomach drops as images flash in the back of his mind, thoughts of living in a shattered wasteland frightened him.

_Alone, with none to love you except robots you have programmed._

Seeing his destiny sent him spiraling.

In his mind echoed a loaded gun.


End file.
